


metanoia

by butchdeloria



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Swearing, disabled courier, everyone's fucking smoking, he's like... mid 40s, mexican courier, old guys in love!, older courier, some drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butchdeloria/pseuds/butchdeloria
Summary: Ever since waking up in Goodsprings, Francisco Velazquez's life hasn't been the same. Already a sufferer of chronic pain leftover by a serious injury from his days in the NCR, he now finds himself struggling to keep his mind straight. Things which came easily to him before now seem far away. His senses and memory are dulling by the week. Frankie wonders how much longer he has before he forgets who he is completely.Luckily, his companions seem to be taking care of him more than he realizes.





	metanoia

**Author's Note:**

> This may turn into a chapter work, but I'm not sure. It has no plot so don't look for one. Also possibly out of character but they never gave us a Raul romance so.... my city now I guess.

“Boss?” Raul’s voice warbled around in Frankie’s head, just below the piercing ringing of a never ending bell. “Boss?” 

His mind pulled up a brief memory of listening to people speaking while underwater. A voice, sure, but not one that made any sense. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder, bony fingers squeezing it roughly. He would’ve flinched if he’d been present enough.

“Huh?” Frankie blinked a few times, screwing up his face at the sunlight glaring back at him through the haze in the sky where he’d been staring. “What?”

“You wandered off again,” Raul said.

Frankie rubbed at his face, how long had it been since he’d shaved? A month, probably, judging by the thick stubble. “What’re you talking about, I’m right here,” he grumbled, accented speech dropping the parts of his words it deemed less important.

Raul shot him a pointed look. 

He shook his head, “I always come back.” A pause, “What’re we doing here?” He tried to recall their mission, eyes wandering around in search of something that’d bring him back to reality. 

“Clean up job,” Raul offered him a pair of binoculars. His hand hesitantly left Frankie’s shoulder, dragging down his upper arm before pulling off completely. 

“Right,” Frankie took the binoculars. He brought them up to his face and began to scan over the worksite within the quarry below them. The distant shapes were blurry around the edges, giving him little idea about which of the people was their mark. “These are shit. We didn’t have anything more reliable for this?”

“I adjusted those for you a few minutes ago. They out of focus again?” Raul asked, an unspoken question lining his actual words. 

He lowered the binoculars, holding them absently to the side for Raul to take, “Yeah. Out of focus again.” He pressed against his temple with a thumb idly. “Don’t need them. Just tell me where.”

Raul frowned, though it went unseen by Frankie. “Sure thing, Boss.” 

Frankie shifted in the dirt, lifting up his rifle to get a proper hold of it. He fumbled with the scope for a few moments before giving up on it completely. No amount of turning dials would force his eyesight back to normal. 

“Our boy is to the left of the run down tractor. Green shirt, real ugly.”

He turned the barrel to the left, passing the remnants of an old piece of machinery until he spotted a figure in green- least he could still see colors. 

“Gray pants?”

“That’s him alright,” Raul confirmed. 

Frankie squinted, attention dropping from the figure over toward a ratty flag dancing off the top of the nearest warehouse building. “How many others?”

Raul sighed, binoculars moving as he counted, “Oh I’d say… just enough to make the day interesting.”

“Where they at?” His gaze returned to the man in green. Hedge Tate Keller, hell of a name. Hell of a bastard too. 

“Two next to your guy-”

“I can see those ones Raul.”

“-and one right by that tractor. Two on the roof, and one sitting up on the shack closest to us…” he trailed off.

“That it?”

“Hold your horses. There’s one more by the west entry gate, in a chair. That’s all I see.”

Frankie nodded, then started evening out his breathing carefully. His index finger slid down to the trigger, “Go back there with Arcade.”

“And miss all the fun? I never get to see shows anymore.”

“I’m serious go back-”

“And what about if you need eyes again? I’m not gonna sit on my ass back there while they take shots at you, güey.” 

Raul had a point, damn him. Frankie huffed, “Alright just… lay low.” 

“Oh, sure thing Boss. Thank you, I’d actually planned on standing up right when the shooting started,” Raul said, lowering himself off his elbows to be belly down in the dirt. He nestled comfortably beside Frankie, binoculars pulled up to his eyes. 

He threw his arm out to gently smack into Raul’s shoulder, then focused in on the task at hand.

Hedge Tate Keller; some nobody from God knows where who fancied himself as a Highwayman of sorts. From what they were told, he’d been harassing people traveling on the highway south east of the 188 Trading Post for the past couple of months. Apparently, him and his gang, or whatever they called themselves, kept giving the NCR the slip. Limited as the NCR was at the moment, they had no issues with hiring outside help. 

Needless to say, that’d done fuck all and now here they were. The soldier at the trading post had been sure an ‘old man’, as he’d so kindly put it, and his ‘friends’ weren’t going to be able to pull the job off; as if it took a kid to do proper bounty hunting. 

Dust on the outcrop blew up into the air around them, swirling its way down toward the hollow below. 

Hail Mary, Mother of God… 

He squeezed the trigger, shot echoing out along jagged rock walls hugging the workyard. Two more swiftly followed while bystanders fumbled for their weapons, heads turned skyward in a desperate attempt to pinpoint Frankie’s location. 

… pray for us sinners….

Right- tractor. Two- roof. One- shack. 

… now and at the hour of our death.

Entry gate- chair. 

Amen.

Frankie made a ‘forward’ gesture, watching from the corners of his eyes as Raul brought a hand up to whistle sharply. The noise did not break past the painful ringing in Frankie’s ears. Much as he wanted to cup them protectively and hunch over he still had a job to do. 

Cass and Rex entered the clearing slowly from behind their hiding spot. Both on high alert and sweeping over the bodies they could reach. 

This part he hated. If he missed just one thing, just one flash of movement, he could lose them forever. How would he make it out here without them by his side?

The seconds dragged on, but Cass’ figure appeared into view again, hat and hand raised skyward. All clear.

Frankie let out a low sigh of relief, head dipping down and eyes closing. His fingertips rolled over the rosary beads wrapped around his right hand.

“All clear, Boss,” Raul said, voice distant. He tapped Frankie on the shoulder and stood, offering his hand for Frankie to take.

“Yeah,” Frankie mumbled, letting Raul help pull him to a stand. “Thanks,” he hefted up his rifle. His hearing started to return, sounds of the wasteland filling his ears once more. 

Their touches lingered, slowly letting go of each other and turning their heads toward the path leading off the rocks.

“All in a day’s work. How rich are we gonna be?” 

Frankie tried to shake off the warmth Raul’s hand had left behind. “It’s not about the money.” Doing this wouldn’t make the highway safe for travel by a longshot, but at the very least it put a few people down who rightfully deserved it. One less band of dicks roaming the desert. 

“So, I can have your share then?” Raul asked, hand dipping into the inside pocket of his jumpsuit. “Awfully generous of you.”

He sucked his teeth, “Always trying to steal my caps.”

“You started it.”

They made their way downward, knowing Arcade waited for them just below. 

After a bit of fussing over Frankie’s eyes and ears, way to rat Raul, they all made it to the center of the clearing with Cass and Rex. Naturally, Arcade chewed him out the whole way for smoking, then quietly accepted a cigarette from Raul too. Typical. 

Raul shot Frankie a ‘shut up’ look. Mindreader. 

“Anyone else think that was way too fucking easy?” Cass blurted once they were in range. 

“Well, we did stalk them all the way back to their… base… thing,” Arcade mused, crossing his arms and looking about.

Frankie knelt down to pet at an excited Rex. “Good boy,” he whispered, scratching the metal mutt behind his ears. Rex had been the first of them to join him. Only because Cass kept telling him no every time he’d originally asked.

“I doubt they ever expected anyone to even find them here,” Arcade lowered his glasses, wiping dust from them with the edge of his shirt. 

“Yeah, but I still wanted a fight,” Cass grunted, kicking at a nearby rock. 

Arcade shook his head, “You should be pleased with the lack of danger. I know I am.” 

Frankie instinctively reached out for Raul as he stood, grabbing onto his arm to brace himself with a groan. “Let’s check them and get out of here. Sun’s going down soon. I don’t wanna be stuck camping out in the open.”

“Sure, make us younger folk do all the dirty corpse looting work,” Arcade pushed his glasses back up on his nose. 

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Frankie smirked over at him. “Plus, my Doctor says I need to limit my ups and downs.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Raul agreed with a nod. “We’ll be over here, minding our backs.” 

Arcade made a face, “Of course, now you listen.”

\-----

“Think it’s smart letting her do all the talking?” Raul asked, gaze briefly shooting over to the command tent Arcade and Cass had disappeared into. 

Frankie ashed his cigarette with a flick of his thumb, bringing it back up for another drag. He watched the shopkeepers move about, keeping his back to the NCR soldiers posted around the tent behind him. “She’s good at setting people straight.” 

Raul hummed, not buying Frankie’s shit for a second. “Right… You not wanting to be around them’s got nothing to do with it.”

He knit his brows together, “What’re you getting at?”

“Just something I noticed,” he reached to take Frankie’s cigarette and steal a puff from it, “you worried someone will recognize you?” 

“Don’t have to know a soldier to recognize him,” Frankie muttered. He preferred to keep face to face conversations with the NCR to a minimum. Something wired into his brain liked to snap his shoulders back whenever he was being addressed by a ranking officer. He never enjoyed the conversations that’d follow.

“Y’know, it’s not something you should be asha-”

Both of their heads turned upon hearing Cass’ voice yelling from inside the tent. Frankie’s hand lowered to the handle of the pistol at his side, gaze dropping down to Rex who now stood alert beside them. 

The soldiers posted outside the tent began to move toward the entrance flap where they were nearly knocked off their feet by Cass as she stormed out into the open with Arcade training not far behind. 

“Fuck you too!” Cass shouted over her shoulder. “Fuck you squares looking at!” The two soldiers hurried back into their original positions, averting their eyes. 

Frankie’s hand fell back to his side. He moved to face the two fully, brows raised quizzically. 

“Those motherfuckers tried to rip us off! Tell them, Arcade.”

Arcade cleared his throat, “Ah… those motherfuckers tried to rip us off.”

“They wanted to back out of the deal! Said they never approved of us killing them. Bunch of bullshit, as if they weren’t trying to do the same thing themselves. Nobody plays The Rose of Sharon Cassidy,” she grinned wide, holding up a large sack full of caps and giving it a shake.

“Remind me not to get on her bad side,” Arcade said, promptly receiving a shove in reply from Cass. 

“They paid in full then?” Frankie asked, rubbing at his chin and avoiding eye contact with the soldiers staring over at them. 

“Would I have left that tent if they didn’t?” Cass pulled one arm free from her satchel, bringing it around to her front. She began working on stuffing the caps inside. 

Raul chuckled dryly. Guess that answered his question from earlier. 

“Strips not far. What y’all think? Play some tables at the Wrangler and double our profits?”

Frankie groaned, “Cass…” 

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be good. Arcade won’t lose it all this time.”

“Me?! If my memory serves right, you were the one who tried to double down!”

“You said it was a good idea.” 

“Would be nice to sit and have a few beers, eh Boss?” 

Frankie exchanged looks with Raul, then sighed. A few beers did sound nice. “Alright, alright. Let’s go watch you two lose all our money.” 

\-----

The sound of Cass and Arcade both yelling from the back of the Wrangler drifted over to the bar where Frankie sat. He glanced over at the group, Cass, Arcade, and Raul all laughing and eagerly watching their cards. His gaze lowered to the floor beside his stool, where Rex lay napping. 

He took a long swig from his beer, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Someone looks awfully lonely over here,” a familiar voice crooned from his right. 

His turned to look over at Old Ben, shaking his head. 

“Easy Tiger, I know you’re not interested. Just thought you could use some company, and a fresh cigarette.” He tipped his head over to Frankie’s burned out cig sitting in the ashtray. When Frankie started to protest, “Please, I know how you go through them.”

“Buy you a beer?” Frankie asked, holding his hand out for the offered cigarette.

Ben chuckled smoothly, “You ever known me to drink beer?” 

“Whiskey, then.” 

Ben grinned, “That’s more like it.”

“Garret, whiskey for my friend here,” Frankie pointed a thumb at Ben. 

“I must admit, I didn’t come over here just to chat,” Ben said, adjusting his seat to scoot a bit closer to Frankie, voice hushed. 

Frankie raised a brow, exhaling a plume of smoke, “No shit?”

Ben’s laugh filled his ears. “I’ve been wondering if your, pardon me, lack of interest is because of a certain… ghoul?” 

Frankie looked over at Raul, catching his gaze briefly before turning back to Ben with a dumb expression.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re always in here. You can’t fault a guy for being at least a little bit hurt when you turn him away every time. It’s not like you have a ring on your finger.” He rotated his glass idly, “Besides, you used to be a bit playful before you showed up with him.”

Frankie rubbed at the back of his neck, “Ben… I…” He’d forgotten the little back and forth game they’d used to play. He tried not to feel stunned by the revelation of how effortlessly the gears in his life had shifted after meeting Raul. 

Ben smiled, reading his expression, “Say no more.” He took a sip from his whiskey, and eased back into his own space. “I suppose I should have taken you up on that offer long ago to join you out there in the Mojave. Perhaps I could have beaten him to the punch.”

“It’s still open,” Frankie said with a shrug. “Just uh, not… y’know…”

“No, Frankie,” he chuckled, “I like The Wrangler, like my job. Plus, I hear about what you get up to out there. I don’t think I could keep up with that sort of life.” 

Frankie nodded, understanding. Hell, sometimes he could barely keep up with it too. 

“Just don’t be a stranger. We can still swap stories like we used to. No strings attached,” Ben flashed a smile. 

“You just want free whiskey,” Frankie joked, lines around his eyes crinkling. 

“I traded you a cigarette fair and square,” Ben grabbed his glass, rising up off of the stool. “See you around?”

Frankie nodded, tipping his beer in mock toast, “Yeah, see you around.” 

Ben looked down toward Frankie’s companions. “Good luck,” he said genuinely, touching the back of Frankie’s shoulder and returning to the other side of the bar with several individuals Frankie didn’t recognize. 

Frankie found himself leaning into the countertop, head turned to scan the bar suspiciously. Old Ben had seen right through him, so what’s to say everyone else couldn’t too? He swallowed hard, tongue flicking out to lick his lips nervously. 

He suddenly found himself standing up, and heading for the door. The air didn’t feel right in there, too stale, too… suffocating. 

With the door closing shut behind him, he inhaled deeply. Not nearly as fresh as he needed, though he doubted it ever would be. It’d do for now.

Frankie leaned back against the outside wall, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. His free hand rummaged around for the pocket he’d stowed his cigarettes in this time. That is, if he still kept any on him. He’d started to get so damn reliant on Raul having one at the ready. 

Jacket pocket. Right. 

Relieved, he raised the cigarette to his lips. He fumbled with the lighter for a moment, but managed to get it working. 

Figures filtered through Freeside, all going about their business. He opted to watch them in order to escape the haze of his own mind.

The Wrangler’s door opened with a creak. God, be anyone but-

“Boss?”

Frankie let out a long exhale, gut twisting. “Yeah?” 

“You gonna join us?” Raul questioned, moving to stand beside him. “Arcade’s actually doing pretty good. Think he’s counting the cards somehow.”

“That’s why I told you to never play with him,” Frankie murmured around his cigarette. 

“Dealer hasn’t noticed yet. Should be pretty fun when he does.”

“Nah, I’m good out here,” Frankie said.

Raul shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, “You look like you’re halfway to the border,” Frankie didn’t understand that expression. “Wanna talk about it?”

Fuck, he was easy to read. Frankie grunted, ashing the cigarette onto the sidewalk. “Not a lot to say, really. Just a headache.” 

“They bad lately?”

Frankie’s eyes turned down to the ground, “Thought Arcade was the doctor.”

“He is, but I know a thing or two about rusted old machines like yourself.”

Frankie coughed out a surprised laugh, hunching over and choking on smoke.

Raul’s hand moved to rest on his back while he fought the fit. “Now, I know I’m not that funny.”

“Shut up,” Frankie managed, raising his cigarette up for Raul to take. “Caught me off guard is all.”

“We all figured out you were a robot long ago. That’s why you and Rex get along so well,” Raul stuck the filter between the corner of his lips. 

“Great,” Frankie swiped the backs of his hands over his watery eyes, “now I gotta kill you and find new friends.”

Raul let out a disbelieving snort. “No offense Boss, but we all know who’d win in a fight between you and Cass.”

Once their laughter faded the two fell silent. They both looked out at the street with little interest, finishing off what little remained of the cigarette together.

The back of Frankie’s head buzzed gently, giving him a moment’s peace from its usual throbbing. 

For a moment, he leaned off the wall to try and steal a glance down toward the main Strip. They hadn’t been there yet, too busy doing odd jobs for other people while trying to find a way past the Securitrons, but the itch to get in only grew stronger by the day. With the worsening of his headaches, and overall condition, he wanted nothing more than to get his revenge on the asshole that’d tried to put him in the ground.

He relaxed back into the brick, eyeing Raul. Well, almost nothing more. 

“What’s your plan for after?” Raul asked.

“After?” 

He waved his hand toward the Strip gates, “Saw you looking.”

“Eh,” Frankie rubbed at the side of his face, stubble scratching at his fingertips. “Does it matter? I doubt I have much time left anyway.” 

Raul shot him an incredulous look, “You’re not going to let Doc Henry try and unscramble you?” 

Frankie groaned, “Raul…” He liked to think he had a limit to the amount of surgeries he was willing to put himself through in order to undo the damage that’d been done to his mind. Right now, they were pushing that limit pretty far. 

He flicked the cigarette butt into the street, “Can I be straight with you, Boss?”

“Something tells me you will no matter what I say.”

“I never thought you’d be the giving up sort. I’ve watched you go through Hell and back for us,” he turned to face Frankie fully. “So why won’t you do the same for yourself?”

He stared at Raul, mouth hanging open for what felt like an embarrassing amount of time while he processed Raul’s words. He was accustomed to Raul being direct with him, preferred it even, but he’d never been so bold before. 

“We care about you, Frankie.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but steeled his expression and continued on, “I care about you.”

Frankie’s jaw clicked shut. His gaze dropped to the sidewalk beneath their feet, and he swallowed hard. “Raul…” A warm, calloused hand touched the side of his neck, just beneath his jaw. He tried not to be too pathetic about leaning into it. “I can’t. It hurts. Every day… it hurts.”

“I know,” Raul said, holding onto him steadily. “You don’t have to hide it from me, hm? Look at me,” he pressed his thumb into the side of Frankie’s chin gently. “You don’t have to hide it from me,” he repeated. 

Frankie’s knees buckled. The weight of everything he’d been carrying pressed heavier on him than it had in weeks. He wanted to slump forward, bury his face in Raul’s jumpsuit and fade into obscurity- if only for a moment. His eyes started to burn, threatening to make him turn away again.

“Come,” Raul began to pull at Frankie, coaxing him in close. His hand wrapped around to the back of Frankie’s head, fingers threading carefully through his short curls. 

Frankie exhaled heavily, arms raising to wrap around Raul’s shoulders. He held on tight, scared to let go. “Fuck,” he breathed, letting Raul ground him. Part of his mind told him he just needed a beer to steady himself out and he’d be fine. Another part, a long silenced part, pushed him toward the warmth of companionship which he’d long denied himself.

“Think we can stop putting off that trip to Jacobstown?” Raul asked softly. 

“I don’t wanna make a big thing of it,” Frankie grumbled.

“Just the two of us then,” Raul said, thumb rubbing Frankie’s scalp.

He hummed, “Arcade will blow a fuse if we don’t take him.”

“He’ll get over it.”

Frankie pulled away, hands shifting down to Raul’s arms. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll go.”

Raul smiled back at him, gratitude shining in his eyes. He paused, head tilting to the side thoughtfully. “Say, you don’t think they do facial reconstruction do you?” 

Frankie ducked his head, chuckling warmly. “Shut up, Raul.”


End file.
